Chapter 129: The Second Morocco Crisis

Chen Feng walked to the railing and looked toward the harbor. At Pier No. 3, a battleship flying the Chilean flag was slowly departing — it was the "Kokuren Admiral" ship, built in Lanfang, delivered three days ago, now setting out on the long voyage back to South America. (The South America front will not be written about for now, but the arms race continues; this is just to save space)

"What about the French?"

"The telegram from Paris just arrived," Wang Bo said, "French Prime Minister Joseph Kayou has convened an emergency cabinet meeting and decided to send two additional colonial infantry brigades to Morocco. The Mediterranean fleet has entered combat readiness."

Chen Feng nodded, turned and walked back inside. A huge world map hung on the office wall, and the location of Morocco had been circled in red by Wang Bo.

"What do the Deguo people think?" Chen Feng asked, "Is it worth risking war with Britain and France over a single African colony?"

"Young Master, Major General Mueller called yesterday afternoon and said he would visit in person this morning," Wang Bo said, choosing his words carefully.

"As expected." Chen Feng glanced at the clock on the wall, "He should be arriving soon. Prepare tea — use our Fujian black tea, not Deguo's."

"Yes."

At exactly eleven a. m., Major General Mueller, the German consul‑general in Lanfang, appeared punctually at the door of Chen Feng's office. He was dressed in a full set of naval officer ceremonial uniform; the deep‑blue woolen fabric looked heavy in the July sun, and the medals on his chest shone brightly.

"Your Excellency, President." Mueller's German carried a Prussian accent, but he tried to speak clearly, "Thank you for taking the time to see me."

Chen Feng rose and shook hands, "Please have a seat, Major General. I heard you have urgent business?"

Mueller did not sit down immediately. He opened the black briefcase he carried, taking out a folder stamped with the imperial eagle emblem.

"Berlin urgent telegram." His Chinese was stiff, but sufficient to convey the meaning, "The imperial government hopes the Lanfang Republic can demonstrate the solid German‑Lanfang friendship in this Morocco incident."

Chen Feng took the folder but did not open it right away, "Major General, please be more specific."

Mueller inhaled deeply, as if gathering his thoughts. He is forty‑six this year, has served in the German Navy for twenty‑eight years, participated in the First Sino‑Japanese War and the Eight‑Nation Alliance—of course, as an observer. Three years ago, when he was posted to Dubai, he thought it would be a quiet assignment, but now he has become one of the empire's most important diplomats in the Far East.

"Agadir Port." Mueller walked to the map, "Our 'Leopard' is only a nine‑hundred‑ton gunboat, equipped with just two 105‑mm guns and a crew of 120 sailors. But its symbolic significance… you understand."

"It symbolizes Deguo's presence in Morocco."

"Correct." Mueller nodded, "The French want to monopolize Morocco, which violates the 1906 Algeciras Conference resolution. The empire is merely upholding the dignity of international treaties."

Chen Feng gave a slight smile. He of course remembered that history — in 1906, the European powers met at Algeciras, Spain, ostensibly to discuss the Morocco question, but in reality to carve up spheres of influence. At that time, Deguo was being squeezed out by a Britain‑France alliance.

"So what does Berlin want Lanfang to do?"

Mueller pulled a sheet of paper from the folder, a formal request printed in German.

"First, dispatch one or two capital ships to the Mediterranean to conduct 'joint exercises' with the German Mediterranean fleet. Time: mid‑July. Location: waters east of Sicily."

"Second, make a public statement supporting Deguo's position on the Morocco issue."

"Third, should the situation escalate, permit Deguo warships to use Lanfang's ports in the Persian Gulf for resupply and repairs."

Chen Feng listened quietly, his fingers lightly tapping the tabletop. When Mueller finished, he did not respond immediately, but rose and walked to the tea set to begin brewing tea.

"Major General, try this." He pushed a cup of amber‑colored tea toward Mueller, "It's Zhengshan Xiaozhong from Fujian's Wuyi Mountains. Among our immigrants there is an old tea farmer who trial‑planted it last year on the southern mountains of the Arabian Peninsula and actually succeeded."

Mueller was momentarily stunned, clearly not expecting Chen Feng to discuss tea at this critical moment. Nevertheless, he took the cup and took a sip.

"…a very distinctive flavor."

"It has a smoky note, right?" Chen Feng lifted his own cup, "This tea is smoked with pine needles during processing. Hence some call it 'Smoke Xiaozhong.'"

He set his cup down and looked at Mueller.

"Just like the current Morocco issue," Chen Feng said, "On the surface it's a French‑Deguo dispute, but in reality…"

He pointed to London and Paris on the map.

"It is Yingguo behind the scenes. Sir Grey says 'support France,' but the real meaning is 'we cannot allow Deguo to gain a foothold in the Mediterranean.' Whoever controls the Strait of Gibraltar and the western Mediterranean holds the throat of the British Empire's sea route to India."

Mueller's gaze changed. He set his cup down and leaned forward slightly.

"The President sees through it clearly."

"So the problem arises," Chen Feng said, "Why should Lanfang get involved in this dispute? We have no interests in the Mediterranean, no expatriates in Morocco. Sending ships for exercises… what benefit does it bring us?"

Mueller was prepared. He took another document from his briefcase.

"Berlin authorizes me to make the following commitments: First, the imperial government will, in every international arena, support Lanfang's sovereign claim over its Borneo homeland. Second, Krupp Company will transfer to Lanfang the latest special steel‑smelting technology — including armor‑steel surface hardening processes. Third…"

He paused, his tone deepening.

"If Lanfang agrees to dispatch ships, the imperial navy will order four 'Sea Swallow' class destroyers, total price two million four hundred thousand pounds, with a fifty percent advance payment." (Fengfeng class)

The office fell silent. Only the sound of the sea breeze outside the window and the distant port's ship horns could be heard.

Chen Feng stared at the three documents for a long while. Then he looked up and asked, "Major General, how long may I consider?"

"Berlin hopes… a reply within forty‑eight hours."

"That's too short," Chen Feng shook his head, "Redeploying capital ships takes time. The Restoration Ship has just finished a major overhaul and is still on trial runs. The Revival Ship is on a consular protection patrol in the Java Sea and will need at least two weeks to return."

"Then…"

"Give me a week," Chen Feng said, "By July 8 I will give you an official reply."

Mueller frowned, "President, the situation may already have…"

"Then it requires even more caution," Chen Feng interrupted, "Major General, Lanfang is a small nation. Every step we take must be considered carefully lest we step on a landmine."

The two stared at each other for a few seconds. Finally Mueller nodded, "Alright. One week. But please hurry."

"I will."